


Heart on the Floor and Still Beating

by Python07



Series: If Looks Could Kill [6]
Category: Forever (TV), The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Crack Crossover, Heavy Angst, M/M, not nice to Treville
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-22
Updated: 2016-07-22
Packaged: 2018-07-26 02:51:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,292
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7557217
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Python07/pseuds/Python07
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Treville confronts Aurelian. Aurelian doesn't appreciate it and the claws come out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Heart on the Floor and Still Beating

There was no pity in Treville’s heart seeing Beaufort’s head on a pike. There was no satisfaction either. There was only mild surprise that Louis (of all people) had managed to sneak out of the palace at night, get into the Bastille, get into Beaufort’s cell, and slit the man’s throat himself.

Treville could admit to himself that he hadn’t thought Louis capable of such subterfuge. So much of the time, Louis was still the overgrown boy, but Richelieu’s death was a personal matter. It would’ve been unseemly for Louis to kill Beaufort publicly with all the courtiers watching and Richelieu wouldn’t have approved. So, the King did something that would’ve made the devious part of Richelieu proud. Treville found that he couldn’t really protest.

Treville turned away from the sight of the birds pecking away at the rotting flesh. His mind was constantly turning over everything that had happened. Something nagged at him, but he couldn’t quite pin it down.

Without making a conscious decision, he mounted his horse. A little while later, he blinked and he was riding into the courtyard at the Palais-Cardinal. He didn’t give himself time to think. Instead, he swiftly dismounted, threw the reins to a stable boy, and marched inside.

“Where is Father Aurelian?” Treville barked at the first Red Guard he saw.

The Red Guard snapped to attention. “He’s in the guest wing. He’s packing.”

Treville nodded sharply and pushed past the guard. He stalked through the corridors and all the servants and red guards alike stayed out of his way. He found an open door and Aurelian putting his meager belongings into a leather bag.

Aurelian’s back was to Treville. He didn’t stop his packing. He sighed as if bored. “Come in, Captain.”

Treville stepped inside and shut the door. “Where is he?” he demanded without preamble.

“Who?”

Treville bared his teeth and almost snarled, “Richelieu.”

“With God. As I recall, we were both at the funeral,” Aurelian drawled back, dry as the Sahara desert.

Treville shook his head fiercely. “No.”

Aurelian turned and faced Treville. His tone of voice didn’t change and his expression didn’t so much as twitch. “Forgive me, but I believe that you were also there when he was shot and drowned.”

“I was,” Treville admitted tightly.

“And, if not him, then who did we bury?” Aurelian tapped on his chin, pretending to solemnly think it all over. “Who did they find with his clothes and his crucifix?” 

Treville saw Aurelian's almost smirk. He stepped closer. “It’s all too perfect,” he growled, low and intent.

Aurelian arched an eyebrow. He didn’t step back. “How do you mean?”

“I mean no loose ends. The treaty with Sweden has been finalized.”

“He told me that he’d been working on that some time,” Aurelian interrupted mildly. “He was pleased all of his hard work was beginning to bear fruit.”

“Savoy’s been successfully muzzled.” Treville went on as if Aurelian hadn’t spoken. “Marie de Médici will spend the rest of her life in exile The money’s been found to build the King’s navy.”

Aurelian shook his head. “I hear a list of accomplishments of a great man, nothing else.”

“He named a successor.”

“As any prudent man would,” Aurelian replied easily. “Even he knew that he wouldn’t live forever.”

Treville snorted. “And then there’s Beaufort.”

Aurelian shrugged as if it was of no consequence. “What about him? I thought he was a Spanish spy.”

“He was,” Treville spit out. “But he was also very careful. Richelieu could never prove it. He was relatively secure. Why try to assassinate the King?”

“Perhaps, his Spanish masters thought it was time now. Without the King, a Spanish Queen would be regent until the Dauphin reaches majority. A lot could happen between now and then,” Aurelian said, calmly and reasonably.

Treville wanted to punch him in the face for it. “No.” Treville repeated stubbornly. “It fits together all too well. He died a hero and disposed of a high ranking spy in the process. I’ve watched the Cardinal for twenty years.”

This time, Aurelian did smirk. He looked on Treville with cold amusement. “Watched him?”

Treville felt the heat creeping up the back of his neck. “His plots,” he snapped. “Subtle. Elegant. Cold. Pragmatic. This whole thing bears his seal. I know how his mind works.”

Aurelian's eyes took on a hard edge. “I wonder if you really did.”

“What do you mean?” Treville asked, defensive despite himself.

Aurelian stepped even closer in challenge. “You didn’t know him at all.”

“I--” Treville’s voice faltered as he took a step back.

Aurelian followed. He didn’t have to raise his voice for it to be cutting. “Whatever physical pleasures you may have shared, you never cared to discover the man underneath the Cardinal, did you?”

“I did!” Treville protested but still stepped back. He paled. “He told you?”

“I’ve known him my whole life. He’s family. I don’t give a damn about that.” Aurelian still followed. He waved a hand up and down in front of Treville. “Believe me, I have no wish to expose you or do anything that would tarnish his legacy. I only wish he would’ve chosen better.” 

“I--”

“I know exactly how you cast yourself. You, the honorable man of action while he was the manipulative snake.” Aurelian snorted derisively. “I suppose every hero needs a villain to shine.”

“I never--” Treville found his back against the wall. He was suddenly out of breath and his heart beat wildly in his chest.

Aurelian stood a foot in front of Treville. He kept his hands loose at his sides. It was the sheer force of his personality and furiously controlled anger that kept Treville pinned. “But you did. He did the things that you didn’t have the stomach for. Do you honestly think a monarch can keep power without the help of someone who doesn’t mind getting his hands dirty?”

“I--” Treville groped for words to let him go back on offensive against Aurelian.

Aurelian didn’t stop. “The nation needed strength and Louis couldn’t or wouldn’t provide it. So, it fell to the First Minister. Tell me. Who is going to provide it now?” His lip curled into a sneer. “You?”

“I know!” Treville shouted. He took a deep breath and lowered his voice. “I know that sometimes alternate methods are needed. I know sometimes they are necessary.” He let out a small pained sound from the back of his throat. “But he went too far in the plot against the Queen.”

Aurelian rolled his eyes. “For someone who claims to know Richelieu’s methods, you missed the mark here.”

Treville swallowed heavily. “What do you mean?”

“I heard all about it.” Aurelian held Treville’s gaze. Again, he didn’t have to raise his voice to cut straight through Treville. “Do you really think that ham-fisted attempt on the Queen’s life and all the subsequent drama was in any way part of his plan? Was is subtle, elegant, and cold? Was it pragmatic? How would killing the Queen really benefit France?”

Treville let out a shaky breath. He couldn’t speak. He just stared at Aurelian.

Aurelian took a deep breath and let it out slowly. He shut his eyes for a brief moment. His face smoothed out and the fury inside of him was back in its cage. He managed a sad smile. “The Cardinal is dead, Captain. I suggest you try and make peace with it.” He opened the door. “Stop by the stables on your way out. In his will, he left Navarre to you.”

“That’s the finest horse he owns,” Treville said roughly.

One end of Aurelian's mouth quirked up but there was no humor in it. “Do you still think this is a plot?”


End file.
